Syrah’s pain was obvious in every twitch of skin, quiver of muscle and shake of breath to the point Bacardi nearly felt it himself. But the stallion was patient, keeping guard over her as she gathered up her strength to stand. As she did, he reached out his nose to begin checking her over a bit more thoroughly when she asked who he was. It made Bacardi freeze for a second, his attention returning to her face. The blood smeared on her head was a clear explanation, and Bacardi could only let out a soft sigh. It could be worse; Syrah could be dead.


“My name is Bacardi.” he replied. “You’ve been living here, in the Forest, under my protection for quite some time.” Bacardi explained, hoping that would explain why he hadn’t treated her like a stranger. Although, in truth, he had never really gotten to know her well enough to say they weren’t strangers. Maybe that would change in the coming days as Syrah began to heal. He certainly wasn’t going to leave her on her own in such a condition.


“We need to get you cleaned up before a predator scents you, or infection.” the stallion explained as he stepped closer, offering his shoulder if she needed it. “There is a pond not far from here.” They would go at her pace, make sure she didn’t stumble or fall. Bacardi was afraid if she fell again, she wouldn’t be able to get back up.

mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the forest.

"...speech"